


The Creatures We Confide In

by LittleNieel



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Cats n' Stuff, Cute Sherlock, Fluff, I'm Bad At Tagging, Johnlock - Freeform, M/M, Plot, Strange Creatures Roaming About, cuteness will ensue, probably eventual smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-28
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-05-14 16:53:49
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,902
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14773491
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LittleNieel/pseuds/LittleNieel
Summary: John has been able to see strange other worldly creatures since he can remember. They would visit him and hang around for a few days before leaving John by himself. His cameras never worked in photographing them, so he went to art, drawing and painting their exotic colors and anatomy. For so long now he has believed he was the only one who could see and interact with them since everyone seemed to be completely ignorant of such fascinating creatures flying around them everyday. However, an unexpected visitor ends up leading John to the one thing he's been hoping to find.





	1. The Meeting

John H. Watson wakes up to the smell of freshly cut grass and the obnoxious roar of Mrs. Hudson’s lawn mower across the street from his cramped flat. Popping an eye open, only to quickly shut it close once more with a wince. The sheer brightness of the sun shining straight into his eyes causes him to groan and turn over. Huffing in exhaustion as his face hits the pillow. He lazily opens his eye again, only to be greeted by a small cat. 

A strange being, the size of a kitten, that is. Its fur resembles a star-dusted, patch of space. Quite bewitching; Something to get lost in. Noting every small detail decorating its petite physique. The moment John feels himself slipping back into unconsciousness, he reluctantly looks away from the enticing lure of this ethereal being. Whatever it is. John has always seen strange creatures roaming around, never truly being noticed by others. John, as a small child, was always told it was his overactive imagination. However, as he grew older, the unusually small beings were as present and clear as possible to him. He can always see every small detail of these beings from up close or far away. 

Something about these...things always hinted to John that they were something that leaked from another plane of existence into his. He never knew why he seemed to be the only person who could see these beings, but it’s not like he asks everyone he meets if they can see the alien-like creatures drifting about the city too. Even to himself he can admit he sounds like a screw got loose in his brain. 

Sitting up slowly, eyes closed as he stretches, very suddenly feels a gentle weight pulling at his comforter. He peeks through his right eye, looking down just in time to witness his absolutely stunning visitor jump elegantly onto his shitty one-person bed.

It seems to purr as it spins effortlessly in circles, standing neatly on its tiny toes as it stares into John’s eyes. John finds that its eyes seemingly blend right into its exquisite coat.

It continues its staring.

Feeling like he was being judged by some space cat, he begins to push himself out of the warmth of his sheets. Galax, which John decides to refer to it as, doesn’t seem to mind, but continues to watch John from its spot on his bed. 

Making his breakfast like usual, he’d occasionally look out and spot Galax still sitting prettily upon his bed, the sheets circling around it. When Galax spotted him, its tail twitched before swishing side to side seductively, as if trying to get John to walk over and pet its divine fur. It works immensely, John is powerless against the pull of its cuteness. 

In a few strides John is already leaning over it, he brushes his fingers through its surprisingly thick fur and nuzzles its small nose. Its fur is endless, John realizes. He’s sure to not bury his hands in too far, they soon just graze the top. Roughing it up before smoothing it out again.

Galax is extremely enthusiastic about being pet. It isn’t that surprising, John thinks. It’s not like these creatures are constantly showed affection by, well, anything on this planet. It continues to make John feel like he really is the only one who can even interact with them! John wonders for a second whether or not these creatures can interact with each other. Surely there are more than just one cat-like creature roaming around, and what about all the other creatures he sees? He’s never been alone with more than two surprisingly, but when he goes out into the fresh, more accurately polluted, air of the city, he sees a literal highway of creatures above him. A lot of the creatures swooping down and flying into the different shops. Some even ride on the huge creatures in the sky, looking down at the people below as they rock side to side with the movements of the ship sized creatures. It’s truly fantastic to look at which causes John to usually bump into people because he’s too busy admiring the system going on up above him. The creatures seem so different from each other that John starts to think they’re from separated dimensions but he absolutely loves the idea that they’re all from the same place. It inspires him to paint what their world might look like, their space, their planets or planet. Maybe they have their own cities and history similar to humans, but he accepts that he’ll most likely never find out the real answer to that.

That aside, Galax lifts its oh, so tiny paws onto John’s shoulders. It purrs warmly before licking John’s forehead. 

The feeling of loneliness invades his heart. The realization of abandonment swarms his mind. Memory are being replayed over and over again from his past. The only other thing he can feel is the saliva from Galax on his forehead. An eternity passes before John can snap out of that mental hole he slipped in. He eyes Galax, who stares at him with affection. It stretches its back before jumping down to the floor and onto John’s knee. 

John didn’t even realize he had fallen. He looks at his hands before scrubbing off whatever was on his face where Galax had pressed its “tongue” to. He feels exposed and hurt for what the thing did, but John doesn’t understand fully what in the hell just happened. He just looks at Galax in disbelieve, not feeling strong enough to move. 

Galax steps towards John carefully, feeling the sudden shift in his mood. It purrs gently and quickly before nudging its head into John’s chin. He feels foolish. It’s just a Cat. Well, a cat nobody but he could see. He sighs, getting off his now sore ass to check on his food. He notices Galax follow him this time around, strangely enthusiastic as it runs around and in between John’s ankles. 

John chuckles softly, eyes wrinkling. Having this space kitty as a companion would be quite enjoyable. Even if this charming being stayed only a few more days John would be fine with it, happy that it even lasted so long. 

The creatures that would sometimes visit him in his room in his younger years never stayed. They always disappeared sooner or later, and John never let himself feel that sad about it, always reminding himself that they weren’t his. He learned to enjoy their random appearances rather than wish it lasted longer. 

 

Getting dressed doesn’t take long, and soon enough he’s opening his door when Galax jumped onto his shoulder.

“Coming with me, yeah?” Galax rubs his cheek against John’s in response. He sighs. “Alright then. It’s not like anyone will be able to see you anyways.” He adds quietly, stepping out into the hallway.

Walking through the city proves to be quite difficult. People not moving fast enough, so many people not moving at all. Most of the people here are glued to their phone apparently since they never watch where the fuck they’re going. 

A young girl even spilled some of her hot coffee on him! John isn’t worried the stain. No, the thing that pissed him off the most was the fact that it was boiling hot. How she was even taking sips from her cup was a mystery to him. She barely whispered an apology before running to wherever she was heading, John listened to the clicking of her heels mesh into the noise of the city. 

Muttering swears under his breath, John continued on his way. Rushing a little bit faster so he could get home earlier and hopefully never have to leave the house until work called for him.

“Just get the groceries and leave. That’s all you have to do.” John said quietly. He continued to tell himself just that as he quickly bought everything on his shopping list, waited a thousand years in the checkout line, until he finally was able to leave. 

As John hums an old melody, Galax jumps of all the sudden and runs towards the small park that John would have nearly missed. For only a second he ponders whether or not to follow Galax, or to just go back home. 

John feels like this sudden rush of adrenaline was the only thing making him do this, but for once, he chased after one of these strange creatures. He quickly found Galax, but they run so fast it was extremely hard to keep up. 

John has once again been proven wrong. This park isn’t as small as he believed it to be.

Eventually Galax stops behind a bush. John collapses rather loudly beside it and begins to catch his breath as he looks at Galax. John follows its intense gaze and sees a dark haired man.

He’s sitting on the grass, with a sketchbook. John and Galax are luckily situated behind this man, and John is really testing his luck as he sneaks out of the bushes to get closer to the man.

In front of him is another unearthly creature, roughly resembling a platypus. Bright orange colors most of its features. Its mouth and tail showing a dark brown. It’s lazily on its back, absorbing the sun and making a noise similar to loud snoring; its chest heaving up and down in a peaceful cycle. A tongue-like structure slips from the side of its mouth.

As John gets closer he can see what the man’s drawing. Or should he say painting. The man’s art tools come into view. Yet what catches John’s eye is not the many greens in the man’s painting, but the bright orange center. 

The man is drawing the being before him. The orange being whom is laying on his back probably taking a nap. The man is able to see it. Like John can.

If John’s gasp of surprise didn’t alert the man of his presence, then Galax’s very loud meow certainly did. 

The man spins around fast. Wide eyes looking into John’s equally, if not wider, eyes. John feels his heart to a flip. Unsure of what to do, he continues to gawk at the man and sputter. Galax jumps onto John’s head, frightening John and making him flinch and backup. In less than 1 second the man is already standing and still staring as he takes a few steps towards John.

John continues to stare, mouth open, until he finally finds his vocal cords and says, “The creature!”

The man stops.

“The...I saw you drawing...the, um, the creature that was in front of you. I, uh, saw...I thought you could see them too?” John cringes at his words, the crack in his voice in the last sentence. John immediately starts regretting ever following Galax.

The man’s mouth opens, then closes. His eyes seem to bore into John. He finally speaks. Clearing his throat first. “Sherlock Holmes,” he states. “It has been quite interesting, this past minute.” He pauses to look John up and down, eyes squinting in concentration. “You can see these little monsters as well?” 

John snickers at the word ‘monsters’. Galax, and all the other creatures didn’t seem like monsters at all to John. “My name is John Watson. A pleasure, Mr. Holmes. I’ve...never met someone else who could also see these beings.” John nervously holds out his hand for Sherlock to take. Sherlock didn’t really look like someone you could just approach and shake hands with. Looked more like a statue that was well respected.

Sherlock looked down at John’s hands, then back into his eyes as he shakes it firmly.

A few beats pass before either of them say anything.


	2. An Interesting Afternoon

If John had known that following these creatures would lead him to another person able to see them, he’d have done it much sooner. Mr. Holmes, or Sherlock like he always insists (says ‘Mr. Holmes’ reminds him of his brother), was a rather strange man. However, with his strangeness excitement followed closely behind. The two had went out for tea that day, after John had dropped off his groceries of course. Sherlock’s snide remarks about his apartment based off what he could view from the entrance way weren’t subtle, but John’s glare at Sherlock caused him to shut his trap and walk out into the hallway as John was putting away the last item that needed to be refrigerated. 

Galax was still with them as they sipped from their cups, John taking a bite out of the cinnamon bun he ordered. Sherlock stares intensely at John, causing him to feel flustered, but John realizes that it is not he who Sherlock’s attention is on, but Galax. He chuckles at the thought which causes Sherlock’s assessing gaze to focus on him. John looks up from his cup and locks eyes with Sherlock, smirking. Galax lays down, curling around Johns neck, its vantablack eyes closing, leaving its galaxy themed fur to show in its place. Sherlock looks back down as it does this and then sharply back to John in a questioning manner. John smirk turns into a smile as he continues eating his cinnamon bun and silently sipping his tea.

Sherlock sighs. “That thing of yours. When did this relationships start?” John coughs and looks strangely at Sherlock.

“What do you mean, ‘relationship’? Don’t the creatures bother you too? I just met this cat today and it hasn’t left since.” With this confession Sherlock returns John with his own strange look.

“I’m rarely ever able to get close to these creatures. They always run away and I only ever see them outside my house. I thought they treated everyone like this since they never bothered the other people in the city. However, I see now that I was mistaken.” Sherlock pauses for a second looking back at Galax before continuing. “I’d like to hear about your other experiencing with these creatures.”

“Oh? Why should I tell you about that? It’s pretty personal.” John teases, his smirk returning full force. Sherlock rolls his eyes dramatically, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed. He then sits up, and begins to explain what he’s been doing for the past twelve years.

*****

“You’ve been trying to figure out why there are creatures roaming around our ‘plane of existence’ since you were fifteen” John repeats dumbly. Sherlock nods his head, taking a sip of his tea. They’ve been here for nearly 20 minutes, time going by as they chat about numerous things. John ends up ordering something else in embarrassment because the waitresses kept giving the two men looks, waiting for one to get something other than two teas and a cinnamon bun. 

“Really, John, it’s not that weird to want to discover the origin of these creatures. Surely you’ve tried to find out, haven’t you? They are extremely fascinating and they seem to not only visit areas such as this world,” Sherlock explains. John gives what he said a thought.

“But how do you know they don’t just travel here? It’s not like you have a written copy of their schedules. You said yourself they don’t like you much. And I sure haven’t been able to communicate with them even with my several encounters.” Sherlock looks extremely annoyed, though John thinks if he wasn’t paying attention he would’ve missed it the slight change in his companion’s face.

“John. If they come from a different universe, or even a different area in this space and are just able to travel faster than us, there would still be a likely chance there are multiple universes!” John whispers at Sherlock to be quieter as people give them weird looks. He huffs, clearly annoyed. “Haven’t you ever followed one of the creatures? I have, and only 7 times has one of them opened something that shares similarities with what we think a portal looks like. Each creature has created these ‘portals’ in a different way and each portal has looked different, except two of which were identical. I tried to take pictures, but it obviously didn’t work so I turned to painting it the best I could remember. Which, might I add, is very precise,” Sherlock continues quickly under his breath, leaning closer to John over the table so less people could eavesdrop on their conversation

John suddenly feels a little twinge of regret at not trying what Sherlock did, but he doesn’t feel it for long because Sherlock’s antics were probably more annoying than Sherlock described and it was most likely the reason the creatures didn’t fancy the only other person who they could interact with. John sighs. “I never really felt I had to find out. When they would hang around with me for a couple of days and then leave, I didn’t chase after them like some crazy ex--” at this Sherlock scowls rather cutely, “--they can leave whenever they want to, I don’t own them. Although, I have always wondered where they came from and what they are, I’d rather imagine because I’ve already come to terms for quite a while now about the fact that I’m probably never going to find out any real answers since for so many years I thought I was the only one who could see them.”

“I also shared those thoughts of believing I was the only one. However, now that I know there isn’t any medical reasons as to why I see these exotic organisms, we can both work together--” Sherlock surprises John by grabbing his left hand, but Sherlock just as quickly lets go before John can react, “-- to find out the truth. I’ve been trying to find out whether or not it’s possible to communicate through words with these creatures, but as you know, they don’t seem to like me. But you, John, have a talent for attracting them. And that thing on you is the evidence.” Sherlock points at the still napping cat splayed over John’s shoulders.

They continue to talk the hours away, sharing stories of their encounters with the creatures during their childhood. The conversation heads off onto different topics, and John’s even able to make Sherlock laugh (it was more of a small chuckle) when telling him when he was passing by a chemistry class in college, he witnessed an explosion right in a guy’s face. The bloke’s name was Jake or James, John can’t remember it too well since it’s been quite a while since his school days.

They eventually realize how long they’ve been at the cafe and get up to leave, Sherlock asks John if he’d like to visit his house sometime to show him the various painting he’s done that show the portals. For scientific purposes of course, in case John has seen a portal, but just didn’t make the connection. John agrees, trading contact information with him.

A few minutes after they part ways, John’s little buddy begins to wake, his formerly invisible mouth showing as it yawns and stretches out its limbs. It jumps off and begins to walk beside John, floating at his eye level. He decides to get a cabbie and after a few tries he gives up and waits at a bus station. He did have somewhere to go other than the grocery store today. Some others stand around. 

“Bless you,” someone says offhandedly after John lets loose a sneeze. Galax looks up at the interaction for a few seconds, looking to and from the lady and John before alerting John that the bus was almost there by jumping about and pointing to the left with its tail. On the bus, John looks out the window, watching the buildings go passed him and feeling the slight rumble of the road as its driven on. He huddles his bag closer and looks over at Galax, they’re staring intently out the window, as if it was something it’s never experienced before. Maybe it hasn’t, but the stillness it kept, minus the moments the bus shook, was surprisingly stunning and make John smile. Its weight on John’s right knee comforting and light. 

Checking his phone as he left, he found a new message in his inbox:

To: Johnwatson133  
From: marymorstan42

Don’t forget the extra supplies has been moved to room 303, John. Don’t want a repeat of last time, do you? LOL

John rolled his eyes and sent his reply:

To: marymorstan42  
From: Johnhwatson133

Ha ha. Very funny, Marie.  
By the way, can you never type “LOL” ever again? Thanks.

John puts his phone back in his pocket and continues his venture to Michael’s, with Galax zipping through the shops and spinning around crazily. Apparently after that kitty nap, Galax was extremely excited. It bounced on the cars driving back and on the heads of the people walking on the streets. Galax suddenly zipped up and down John’s entire figure and tried nudging his hand towards something. John waved it away, but it only seemed to get more enthusiastic about bothering John’s right arm.

John didn’t know what to think of it. Galax just kept spinning and zooming around like a psycho. It kept going even as John browsed the store. He tried multiple times whispering to Galax what was wrong, but they just kept flying around in between John’s legs at super speed. John sighed in defeat, there was no way of telling what had Galax so excited about. 

He continues on his way to the canvas section of the store. He’s close to running out and he’s been feeling in the mood to attempt a large painting of a transport system the creatures might have. Something surreal like he normally enjoys doing. 

Galax is still going crazy when John finally finds the canvases he was searching for, grabbing a few and trying to fit them in the cart. He suddenly feels his phone buzz in his pocket. Checking it, he sees Mary’s email and clicks.

To: Johnwatson133  
From: marymorstan42

Oh, you know I only use LOL to make you uncomfortable Johnny. ;)

John rolls his eyes and puts his phone away, grabbing a couple other supplies before heading to the checkout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahh Hello again and thank you for making it till the end <3  
> I had gotten halfway through this before I remembered I had responsibilities to take of  
> Then I couldn't think about anything for a while, bU T I did get this done without taking 5 months so -- success, definitely.  
> This chapter is a little bit shorter than the last one, but I have a lil surprise in store for chapter 3 and I can't wait to get it finished and publish it for ya'll!  
> I live and breathe for comments so if you have the time, I'd love to see what you have to say about my lil' AU!! I try to respond as fast as I can :)


	3. The Other

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hi y'all. How ya been?  
> I am deeply sorry for the 50 years it took me to write this chapter. Lots of stuff has been happening.  
> Warning: slight sadness in the beginning of this chapter.
> 
> Hope you guys enjoy!

Across the park, a few left and right turns, and a long narrow street eventually leads to the one and only house of Sherlock Holmes. Tea stains cover almost all the surfaces that a cup can be placed, papers littered all over. Heavy and rapid typing is coming from the upstairs room, stopping for a minute at random intervals before continuing again. However, the typing stops completely at one point, and it doesn’t continue. 

Inside, Sherlock has paused--faltered if you will. His entire body frozen in motion as he looks wide-eyed at the thing that just squeezed itself through his dull, blue wall. A small prickly animal, grunting cutely as it waddles passive-aggressively towards the center of Sherlock’s desk. Sherlock still doesn’t move a muscle as it squeaks in front of him and rolls all over Sherlock’s papers, sniffing everything in its path. 

It looks up at Sherlock throughout this entrance and jumps, squeaking in a more annoyed fashion. Sherlock is able to snap himself out of his trance and carefully moves his hands towards the creature, his fingers eventually touching the soft bristles. It immediately curls into Sherlock’s touch, its bright, orange body rolling onto its back to reveal a neon green tummy.

Sherlock gulps nervously, these stunning monsters have never ever come to him before and stayed with him for longer than 5 seconds. He hoped this time he wouldn’t misstep and scare it away like he’s accidently done to other creatures who’ve shown slight interest in him. He slowly picks up the 2-pounder and brings it to his face, looking it in the eyes and waiting for something to happen.

It sneezes all over Sherlock’s face.

A nearly gray slime floating in the air rather than staying on Sherlock’s nose and cheeks. He loosens his hold on the creature as he watches the gray bubbles slowly climbing upwards into his roof before disappearing. It takes Sherlock a minute to fully come back to his senses and he starts typing even hastily than before, accidently dropping his little squeaker onto the faded blanket he had put over his legs to save money on the heating bill once the chill had started to really bite at him. 

Sherlock barely notices the huffs and annoyed grunts coming from the creature, too busy writing every little detail about the events that just transpired. However, what the little thing did next truly captured Sherlock’s attention; it did a couple of pushups on the side of Sherlock’s bony right leg before gathering enough momentum to jump off and start lazily floating upwards until he landed on top of Sherlock’s hand, its plump body a comfortable weight. Sherlock, for once, allows himself the luxury of letting out a smile of amazement. Of course he knew these creatures could fly, but never has it been to get closer to him. 

The two share a moment together, the creature getting comfortable on Sherlock’s hand, the silence soothing to Sherlock’s loud mind as he admires it. 

The moment is immediately broken when his brother's voice makes an appearance. He had opened the door while Sherlock was distracted and had watched Sherlock for who knows how long. 

“Brother dearest, you're mind has been slipping more and more lately and I'm beginning to get worried.”

“Beginning to get worried?” Sherlock turns around, though he leaves his right hand on the desk so the orange being wouldn't leave him. “You’ve been pestering me like mother for the past 10 years. I can't even begin to tell you how disappointed I was when you kept at it even when I moved out.” Sherlock’s glare cut into his brother, but he showed no sign of falter at what Sherlock spit at him.

“Sherlock plea--”

“Out. Leave. Now. I’m perfectly fine.” Sherlock announces, turning back to his desk, looking out through the window.

“Sherlock...” At this, Sherlock glances slightly over his shoulder. His brother’s voice, scarily enough, was brimming with emotions. Hurt, genuine worry, and something else Sherlock wouldn’t like to acknowledge. “I just want...you to be okay.” At this the brothers stay still, no words passed between them. Something that hasn’t happened in years. 

Sherlock looks away, back at the sleeping donut laying on his hand. “Mycroft, please go.” Sherlock murmurs, trying his best to make it sound confident, but Mycroft knew he didn’t mean it this time. Mycroft leaves the room, but he heads to the kitchen collecting dust, and begins to cook Sherlock a meal with whatever his men had placed in the fridge the week before.

The cameras Mycroft had installed had shown Sherlock hadn’t eaten at all. He only came out of his room and left, leaving everything else alone as he rushed off with his paint bag and canvas. Mycroft got the hang of cooking at quite a young age after a while of having to deal with sherlock’s damaging behavior. He always talked about monsters glowing in his room and zooming through Mother’s garden. Mycroft tried to get rid of these ideas from sherlock’s head, but as the years went on, Sherlock’s condition seemed to stay the same, Mycroft was the only one who knew about Sherlock’s visions. 

Mycroft knew better than to believe his little brother when he pleaded and swore they were real, that they were just as clear to him as Mycroft was. It seemed hopeless, trying to convince Sherlock he was hallucinating, but now as he tried again, Sherlock seemed different, more confident that nothing was wrong with him. Mycroft tried his best to pry into the new delusion that had Sherlock convinced to maybe help him, but no such luck came. 

Ordering Sherlock downstairs to eat, Mycroft is extremely surprised by how quickly he shows up. Sherlock finishes eating rather quickly before rushing back into his room, bidding Mycroft goodbye. 

Mycroft sighs tiredly before slowly leaving his little brother’s house, sure to return very soon, to Sherlock’s dismay.

*****

“I can’t believe him sometimes.” Sherlock pouts, remembering all the other times Mycroft wouldn’t leave him alone until he had gotten what he wanted. Frustrated, it takes awhile to continue his research. Looking down at the chubby creature, Sherlock finds similarities between it and another species on Earth, visible to everyone who isn’t completely blind. However, Sherlock doesn’t want to classify these monsters with animals from earth since they are obviously different, it might become confusing. However, this little thing seems different than the rest, definitely smarter in Sherlock’s opinion. Its small paws have a layering of intricate spikes that ride in a line up to its shoulders and hide behind its quills. A perfect design that had Sherlock wanting to look at it for hours on end. 

The orange stray wiggles awake and Sherlock watches as it squirms back onto his lap, flopping off the edge of Sherlock’s desk and making an “oomf” sound as it hits the ruffled blanket. Sherlock pauses so he doesn’t bother its quest for a comfortable seat. 

It wiggles around some more before getting comfy on Sherlock’s lap and continues its previous nap that got rudely interrupted by Mycroft.. Its little quills moving in beat with its snores. 

Sherlock decides to move some of his stuff out of the way, and rests his head against his arm, the desk stable beneath him as he allows himself to catch up on all the sleep he’s been missing.

*****

Jolting awake, Sherlock’s brain realizes it’s morning as the brightness of the day shines smugly into his eyes. Trying not to go blind, Sherlock maneuvers his hands until they find the drapes, throwing them to the right, effectively blocking the rays of destruction from hitting his abused pupils. 

Stretching out the kinks in his back, Sherlock remembers last night’s events and looks around to find the creature hadn't left, and instead has stayed in the same seat since Sherlock fell powerless to the strong need to sleep; Its little belly expanding gently as it breathes and rests on Sherlock's lap.

Not knowing what to do that won’t disturb the creature, Sherlock attempts to maneuver it carefully into his hands. Surprisingly it doesn't stir and allows Sherlock to place it down on his desk, where it continues snoring, unbothered by everything around it. 

 

Being slightly distracted that morning, his usual routine took longer as he goes over everything from last night for the millionth time. However, he forces himself to stop after he spends 10 minutes brushing his teeth. After getting dressed, he opens the door to his room quietly and looks over at his desk where he suspects the cheese ball to be sleeping. His guess is faultless as his eyes note the orange ball climbing his computer screen, causing his little green feet to type random letters onto Sherlock’s word document. Sherlock quickly walks over and tentatively picks it up, then erases its paragraph of “6”s and “8”’s. 

It begins squeaking loudly as Sherlock takes it with him toward the living room. Not knowing what to do, Sherlock tries hushing it and telling it to calm down. 10 minutes pass as Sherlock nervously and frantically tries to calm the poor thing down. When he tries to put it down onto the softness of his couch it only screams louder, making Sherlock let out a small, but extremely distressed, whimper. Not knowing what to do or what was even happened always caused Sherlock to be extremely annoyed and in this situation, he was going into a slight panic. Sherlock hugged the orange nugget quickly against his chest in a desperate attempt to give the monster comfort. Its cries lessen as the minutes go by, but Sherlock doesn’t loosen his gentle grip until all that he can hear is its hurried breathing. Releasing the fragile being from his hands and chest, it looks up at him before rolling over onto its back and floating away on Sherlock’s tremendously stain-damaged coffee table. Its small body letting out a mighty thump as it lands. 

It was too early in the morning for all this stress. Sherlock collapses onto his couch for 20 minutes as he analyses everything that just occured. The monster had suddenly panicked, but why. It couldn’t have been Sherlock’s hands, the creature had seemed comfortable sleeping on them last night. There were no sudden noises or movements to have frightened the small thing. What could have triggered it? Sherlock thinks over and over and over, but nothing had happened at all! Nothing occured that could’ve cause the monster to freak out like that. If only it could talk. Sherlock grumbles in frustration, hating the fact that he couldn’t seem to solve this mystery. Perhaps the monster had been thinking of something traumatic. 

Traumatic. Emotionally disturbing or distressing. Related to or causing psychological trauma. Relating to or denoting physical injury. Until this thought, Sherlock had never fully realized how much he truly didn’t know about these monsters. Bursts of possible answers started flowing through his mind rapidly. Maybe the monster had recently gotten into a fight with a larger monster, which would be a reason why a monster would spend any time with Sherlock. Thinking about it, obviously the monster couldn’t possible want to stay with Sherlock, it was injured and it probably healed over night and the creature was just now realizing who was holding him and freaked out because what living thing could ever possibly want to live with Sherlock Holmes. No other monsters stay with him, nor have even come near him. Why would this monster be any different? It’ll most likely escape when it has the chance, like right now…

Sherlock looks up in a hurry, he had curled up on himself unknowingly. The orange circle was still in Sherlock’s home, on his weathered coffee table, slipping on the papers, causing them all the glide to the floor. Sherlock sat up and restarted his mind. Wiping away the sleep from his eyes, he began focusing on more sensible explanations. 

30 minutes go by in a flash when the orange gets bored and prepares its chubby body before it jumps into the air and begins to float towards Sherlock’s closed eyes. It whimpers until sherlock’s eyes swiftly open, widening in surprise by the monster floating an inch away from the tip of his nose.

He looks in awe as the monster nudges its face against his nose before diving for his hands. Sherlock worriedly watches as the monster gets comfortable in his palm, hoping he wouldn’t cause another attack. Sherlock’s mind went into full reverse, it couldn’t be him… The little thing looked so calm, seemingly drifting back to sleep. Maybe these monsters were more intelligent than other animals on Earth. They could be just as advanced as humans, but have extremely different ways of life. So much was to be discovered and it makes sherlock’s heart race the more he looks at the one… creature that has cooperated with Sherlock.

Motivation found, Sherlock hurries, packing all his stuff and quickly running out the door; his little companion stuffed into his shirt pocket, bouncing slightly as Sherlock jogs towards John house. Sherlock sends a short text to inform John of his arrival, mentioning a huge discovery he's made.


End file.
